whispers of a forbidden flame

CHAPTER 4

Bella – Age 22

I shouldn’t smile this much.

Every time Liam brushes past me in the hallway… every time he hooks a thumb in my waistband or kisses my shoulder when no one’s looking, I feel drunk and dizzy with happiness. I spend mornings wearing his shirts, drinking his coffee and pretending I’m not desperately in love with a man I’m not supposed to touch.

At night — he makes love to me like I’m the secret he’s waited his whole life for.

This morning he’s heading to his office downstairs when I wrap my arms around his waist from behind. “Can I distract you?”

“Baby,” he rasps, one hand grabbing my thigh while the other palms my ass possessively, “you are the distraction.”

He spins and kisses me hard against the wall, tongue sliding into my mouth with sinful precision. I gasp as his fingers slip under my thin sleep shorts, dangerously close to my already throbbing center.

“We’ll be late,” I moan.

He smirks against my lips, dipping one finger inside me in a slow, teasing curl. “You started it.”

My knees go weak. I cling to his shirt, whispering, “Liam…”

He growls my name and covers my mouth again, thrusting his finger deeper until I’m dripping wet for him — which is exactly when the doorbell rings.

We freeze.

“Ignore it.” I whimper, rocking my hips.

But he pulls away with a curse. “Stay. Here. Don’t move,” he warns, wiping his fingers and storming downstairs shirtless.

---

Lauren – Age 35

I didn’t come here to beg — or so I tell myself as I stand at Liam’s front door holding my sunglasses in shaky fingers. I just want the last of my things, that’s all. Closure.

When he opens the door without a shirt on, I stare. I hate how gorgeous he is — mussed hair, boxer waistband riding low, sweat on his skin. I remember that body beneath me once… loving me.

“Lauren.” His voice is hard.

“I came for my box in the attic.”

He steps aside reluctantly and lets me in. His house feels different — warmer somehow. There’s a scent lingering in the air… floral, feminine. My gut twists.

“You smell like perfume,” I say flatly.

He gives me a cold glare. “You’re imagining things.”

I’m not. There’s a woman here. I glance toward the staircase — and I know. “Who is she?”

His jaw locks. “Not your business.”

It stings more than I expect. “So you’ve moved on already?”

Liam doesn’t answer. His eyes flick briefly toward upstairs before he drags the attic box down and shoves it into my arms. “Take it and go.”

I stare at him. The way his chest moves. The injury in his stare when he looks at me. So he has given his heart to someone else.

And whoever she is… she’s ruined him for me completely.

I clutch the box tight. “Enjoy your new w***e,” I spit before storming out.

---

Liam – Age 37

The second she’s gone, I sprint back upstairs — pulse thundering with one single thought: Bella can’t find out Lauren was here.

But Bella is already waiting at the top of the stairs wearing an oversized hoodie and nothing else. “Who was that?”

I swallow. “Nobody important.”

She bites her pink bottom lip, crossing her arms. “You’re lying.”

“Bella, drop it—”

“Was it her? Your ex-wife?”

I don’t answer fast enough.

She turns away, shoulders tightening, like she suddenly remembers I was someone else’s first. Someone else’s husband. I grab her arm gently. “You are the only person in this house I want,” I growl, kissing her breathless and pushing her against the wall.

Her anger melts into moans as I kiss down her neck. “Liam…”

“I mean it.” I lift her effortlessly and her legs wrap around my waist. “She has no hold over me now. You’re mine, Bella.”

She shivers. “Then… make me yours.”

I carry her back into the bedroom and drop her on the sheets. She pulls off the hoodie, fully naked beneath it — and I lose my mind.

---

Bella

He grabs my ankles, spreading me shamelessly. My heart pounds wickedly as his eyes devour every inch of my bare body.

“You want me to prove it?” he rasps, voice thick with possession.

“Yes,” I whisper.

He falls to his knees and sucks my c**t hard — no teasing this time, just desperate need — while plunging two thick fingers inside me. I arch with a scream, impulse and need flaming through my body.

“Liam!” I cry, grinding into his tongue like I’m starving for him.

He doesn’t stop until I’m shaking all over, then climbs over me, takes his thick length in hand, and pushes deep in one ruthless thrust. My body stretches around him with a sinful sound.

He bites my neck. “You belong to me.”

My nails drag down his back as he pounds into me with raw fury, making the bedsheets twist beneath us.

Sweat slicks our skin. The headboard slams the wall. His thrusts grow wild, chanting my name.

“Say it,” he demands.

“I’m yours!” I scream back. “All yours!”

His hand grips my throat lightly as I explode around him, body convulsing with a pleasure so blinding it’s almost painful. He follows with a relieved groan, spilling warmth deep inside me again.

He stays buried in me, panting, forehead on mine. “No one,” he whispers, “will ever take you from me, Bella. Not even my past.”

Bella – Age 22

I feel him soften inside me, still pulsing gently as we breathe in each other’s air. His hand strokes my hair like I’m made of silk instead of sweat, lust, and sin.

“You okay?” he whispers.

I nod, cheeks flushed. “Yes.”

He starts to pull out of me but I lock my ankles around his waist and hold him in place. “Don’t. Just stay for a second.”

His lips curl into a lazy smile before he flops onto his side, keeping me pressed against his chest. “You’re going to ruin me,” he murmurs into my hair.

“You ruined me first,” I tease, though my heart feels too big for my chest. I soak in the feel of his heartbeat – steady, strong, mine. Every part of me aches in the best way.

A few minutes later he finally slips out of me with a warm, wet slide. I shiver as I feel him dripping between my thighs.

“I should clean you up,” he says, sitting up on the edge of the bed and reaching for a T-shirt to wipe me down. His touches are gentle again, so unlike the rough, possessive thrusts from just moments ago.

I curl into him like a kitten. “Liam?”

“Hmm?”

“What if she comes back?”

He stiffens. “She won’t. And even if she does…” He cups my chin, expression darkening with something fierce and protective. “She won’t touch you. I won’t let anyone hurt what’s mine.”

Mine.

The word sends a forbidden thrill down my spine.

We cuddle for a little while longer before he forces himself to get up and get ready for work. I stay tangled in the sheets, cheeks hot as I watch him tug on a dress shirt and slacks. He pauses in the doorway.

“If I don’t walk out of here right now, Bella, I’ll drag you into the shower and be late again.”

A blush erupts across my skin but I giggle anyway. He smirks and disappears downstairs.

---

Liam – Age 37

My mind should be on meetings and permits, but all I can think about is Bella’s body in my bed… her scent on my skin… the way she moaned my name. A reckless part of me wants to cancel every appointment and crawl back between her thighs.

At lunch I check my phone. Bella texted me a photo — her wearing only my button-down shirt, pouting with the caption: “Miss you already.”

I curse softly under my breath, half hard again in the middle of my office.

God help me — I’m addicted.

---

Lauren – Age 35

I shouldn’t care.

I left him.

I ripped that marriage apart long before we signed the divorce papers. But after today… I can’t shake the feeling something is different. He wasn’t just annoyed with me — he was protective over someone else.

Who is she?

He’s never looked at me with that kind of fire — not in years. Not since before I broke his heart.

That night I open a bottle of wine and scroll through Liam’s old f*******: photos, stewing as I remember his sweet patience and quiet loyalty… the things I threw away.

And the terrifying realization sinks in:

He belongs to another woman now.

And I want him back.

---

Bella – later that night

By the time he returns home, I’ve showered, made dinner, and slipped into a little satin robe I found in his wardrobe — probably a gift from an ex, but I pretend it was always waiting for me.

He shuts the door and his eyes go molten the second he sees me. “You were waiting,” he says lowly.

“Yes.”

“I’ve thought about you all day.”

“Show me.”

He drops his briefcase and stalks toward me, undoing his tie as he goes. My heart pounds with excitement because I already know: the moment he touches me — I’m done.

He pins me to the kitchen counter with one hand in my hair. “I want you… every night… every morning… like this.” His mouth seals over mine, ravenous, tongues tangling deep. I whimper and drag his hand down my waist to where I’m already slick.

“It’s all yours,” I whisper.

His growl vibrates through me as he grabs me by the thighs and hoists me onto the counter, ripping the robe open. I’m soaked, bare, ready. His fingers slide through my slick folds, making me gasp.

“Spread your legs for me,” he orders in a tone that destroys my sanity.

I obey instantly. He kneels and feasts on me like a starving man, tongue thrusting, fingers pumping until I’m crying out, writhing, chanting his name over and over. He doesn’t stop until I’ve come twice — sobbing and shaking.

When I’m weak and ruined, he stands, pulls me to the edge of the counter, and slams into me deep and hard — riding out his own brutal need while staring into my eyes so intensely I almost tear up. The counter rocks, my body opens, and his name is the only prayer on my lips.

He kisses me as he fills me again with his release, keeping his length inside me until every pulse fades.

After, he presses his forehead to mine.

“This isn’t just s*x to me,” he whispers roughly. “You understand that?”

“Yes,” I breathe, cupping his cheeks. “It’s more. It’s everything.”

We kiss slow and deep, already ruined beyond repair but too in love to care.